


but the rain never ricochets

by sunflower_8



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, In a sense, M/M, Memory Loss, Mental Instability, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, Nightmares, Non-Linear Narrative, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Terminal Illnesses, Trauma, brief suicide imagery, tw emeto, vent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:08:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27385462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflower_8/pseuds/sunflower_8
Summary: KOMAEDA NAGITO smiles bitterly. “you really are nothing like my family.”and both think, for a moment, maybe we can form a new one.but that’s all idealistic bullshit, isn’t it?(a nonlinear fic centered on how komaeda and hinata, in a small frame of time, cope with grief.)
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito
Comments: 2
Kudos: 80





	but the rain never ricochets

**Author's Note:**

> quick note:
> 
> komaeda, in this fic, does have both lymphoma and FTD. i did some research to try and display the symptoms correctly, but i will admit that i do not know a lot about this topic and have consistently avoided looking too much into it for personal reasons. that being said, i apologize if anything is incorrect on that front. the same goes for his mental health, though his diagnoses are not specified and are modeled loosely off my own experiences.
> 
> that's all. stay safe, hope you like the fic.

KOMAEDA NAGITO stares down at his parent’s grave, feeling nothing.

his MOTHER and FATHER stare back up at him, being nothing.

and HINATA HAJIME just stares at both, flowers awkwardly in hand.

// END SCENE //

in truth, KOMAEDA NAGITO wasn’t entirely sure he would be coming there, that day. of course, anniversaries of death are quite important, even for someone as absent-minded and apathetic as him, in terms of principle and perhaps sentiment. it’s not exactly like he has a lot to say, when facing a grave, but it would truly be awful  _ not  _ to go, so he did. in this sense, KOMAEDA NAGITO perhaps thinks in black and white.

this is a tired train of thought, however. it is an anniversary of death, and so KOMAEDA NAGITO goes, and he brings his stubborn, kind boyfriend with him, HINATA HAJIME, even if HINATA HAJIME does nothing other than gawk. 

he did get flowers. KOMAEDA NAGITO had forgotten, but HINATA HAJIME did get flowers. they clearly have no thought behind them, but KOMAEDA NAGITO isn’t exactly versed well in flower meaning, either, so he supposes it can be excused. if his parents had any qualms, they could rise from the dead and rip them to shreds.

most days, that sounds more appealing than living.

survivor’s guilt is a rather nasty thing, KOMAEDA NAGITO thinks.

he isn’t entirely sure why he’s coming there.

// END SCENE //

it’s an impulsive decision made in the morning.

HINATA HAJIME is in the kitchen, sipping on black coffee and tiredly reading through some emails, and KOMAEDA NAGITO is sitting on the countertop eating some toast, tapping the countertop. that’s when he says, loud and sudden, “my parents died today.”

HINATA HAJIME looks up with a softened expression, worry in his hazel eyes (and maybe a glimpse of pity). “yeah?” he prompts, coffee mug still in hand. KOMAEDA NAGITO wants to reach forward and spill the dark, scalding liquid onto the hardwood floor, the table, his skin. not HINATA HAJIME’s skin-- KOMAEDA NAGITO would rather die than hurt him more than the thousand times he already has. or maybe not.

it is a miracle KOMAEDA NAGITO isn’t dead. that is what he should believe, right?

“yes,” he states, looking down at his bitten fingernails (and the bitten bread, softer than he likes). “i think i should go visit them.” he doesn’t want to; he has nothing else to do. HINATA HAJIME knows the distinction, in any case.

HINATA HAJIME nods, standing up to walk over to KOMAEDA NAGITO. for a moment, KOMAEDA NAGITO prepares himself to be killed, but instead, HINATA HAJIME kisses his forehead. it does not make him flush, but it does make him feel like the softened toast in his hand. HINATA HAJIME has the distinct coffee scent he always has. everything is okay.

“i’ll come with, if you want me to.” it’s a rather noble suggestion, for someone as afraid of death as HINATA HAJIME. he usually offers to come with KOMAEDA NAGITO to the various gravestones he frequents every year; KOMAEDA NAGITO learns to hide and go alone, and HINATA HAJIME fails to press. 

KOMAEDA NAGITO nods, however, and reaches up to kiss HINATA HAJIME, imagining his mouth to taste like un-crisp bread. maybe he should have had blueberries, to kiss HINATA HAJIME with the color purple, but HINATA HAJIME would just tell him he’s overthinking it.

in any case, KOMAEDA NAGITO decides to see his parents, and HINATA HAJIME agrees to follow.

// END SCENE //

KOMAEDA NAGITO thinks about his MOTHER and FATHER quite often.

it is in the most nonsensical times, is the thing. when he walks past a bookstore with an iris in a vase and suddenly, he cannot breathe on the avenue he found himself walking through. or when he reads a book and underlines a part he knows his FATHER would ordinarily underline, and he is suddenly shaking. or the time he attempted to calculate the amount of gas money he would need for a road trip before thinking of his MOTHER’s encouraging voice, quivering quivering quivering.

it’s frustrating. KOMAEDA NAGITO should not be thinking about them the way that he does, but he does, and that’s frustrating. it is enough to want to tear his hair out, but he does not want to upset HINATA HAJIME or make him concerned. the last time he saw a therapist, it did not go well, and KOMAEDA NAGITO does not want to breach it again.

he feels as if he is a balloon, sometimes. swollen and colorful, flying flying flying, only to pop so very loud and startle everyone around him, as well as himself. a little string, maybe like a noose--  **_do not think of nooses, KOMAEDA NAGITO_ ** \-- and rubber that pops into tiny shreds.

he could pretend it is his flesh. maybe he did, when he was younger.

he can remember little of his childhood, and there is nobody to retell the events to him. and thus, KOMAEDA NAGITO recreates his childhood as an adult the same way he imagines his childhood to be-- hiding behind playgrounds, cough syrup in cherry flavors, breaking his two front teeth, wondering why everyone he has ever loved fails to love him back, shaking over educational games, visiting the library whenever he can, crying every night from stomach-aches he didn’t know was depression, wishing he was dead. 

it is easy to recreate. HINATA HAJIME hides the cough syrup.

// END SCENE //

“this is mother,” KOMAEDA NAGITO repeats incessantly, “and this is father.”

HINATA HAJIME nods. “hello, komaeda’s mom and dad.”

“they say hello back,” KOMAEDA NAGITO responds dryly. HINATA HAJIME does not find it as funny as KOMAEDA NAGITO does-- and just like that, he, too, does not find it funny at all. “well. should i talk to them? it is rather rude to talk to someone when there’s someone else with me.” he thinks he got that wrong.

HINATA HAJIME shakes his head. “i don’t really mind.”

how silly of him. KOMAEDA NAGITO shrugs and begins to talk.

“it’s been over a decade since you died. i’m still impressed you’re able to haunt me so insistently, even when you’re approximately six feet under ground. even the fact that they recovered your broken, burning remains is interesting to me, haha. you’re both very interesting to me.” HINATA HAJIME squeezes his hand, lays down some flowers. “and dear to me. oh, but i should introduce you! this is hinata-kun; you may have seen him a few times, haha, and maybe i’ve told you about him? oh dear, i’ve forgotten if i have. in any case, he’s my boyfriend, even if he’s a little tsun-tsun. be nice to him.”

KOMAEDA NAGITO almost has nothing else to say.

except. “i hate you very, very much.”

“komaeda,” HINATA HAJIME says softly.

“i really, really do, haha! i think you’re disgusting and pathetic and too much trouble for what you’re worth, broken bits of two humans, much less two that created something like me! if you had told me that i was made of the parts of your flesh salvageable enough to become a person, i would believe you, haha!” HINATA HAJIME shifts to wrap an arm about KOMAEDA NAGITO, and KOMAEDA NAGITO sniffles. “i hate you even more, because you brought me into this world and left me behind. isn’t that cruel? introducing someone as worthless as me, deriving them of an inherent purpose-”

“of happiness,” HINATA HAJIME mutters. “though i guess that’s not their fault.”

“it’s mine, then, isn’t it?” KOMAEDA NAGITO retorts. “it’s either them or me. or maybe it’s nothing. haha, i don’t know what nothing is. or what anything is. i think i’m angry, but, i don’t know how to be angry without destroying everything around me, haha. and i don’t think i should destroy your graves, even though you maybe deserve it, haha. it makes me want to  _ cry,  _ mother, father… why aren’t you  _ here?  _ why did you bring me into this miserable planet just to leave me behind? did you not have so, so much more to teach me? was it good luck to learn what i did, or bad luck to learn nothing more. maybe it’s both-- confusing, confusing, i’m going to  _ scream. _ ”

“there’s nobody else here,” HINATA HAJIME says quietly, shifting to hold KOMAEDA NAGITO fully in his arms. “you could if you wanted to. i don’t think anybody would blame you for that.”

so KOMAEDA NAGITO does, burying his face against HINATA HAJIME’s jacket and covering his ears as he tries to scream. but it doesn’t come out quite right, so he tries again, and again, and the texture of the sound is  _ grating  _ to his ears, and he thinks of planes, and,

HINATA HAJIME squeezes around his waist. “there, there,” he says quite awkwardly, but KOMAEDA NAGITO finds it endearing even when tears threaten to burn his eyes. “it’s alright. i’m here.”

“and they aren’t,” KOMAEDA NAGITO whispers. “nobody else is. hey, hinata-kun, do you think it would be better if i wasn’t here as well?”

“no,” he shakes his head and replies immediately. “definitely not. i... really like you, komaeda.”

KOMAEDA NAGITO laughs. “you’ve said that before, haven’t you? oh, but it keeps slipping my mind. maybe i’m just stupid, would you mind?” he doesn’t pause for a response, “maybe i’m losing my memory, would you mind? maybe i’m as dead and deserving as mother and father, would you mind? maybe i wish everyone i’ve ever met was dead too, would you mind?”

“it’s fine, komaeda,” HINATA HAJIME presses. KOMAEDA NAGITO just shivers. “it’s  _ fine.  _ i think it makes sense to want that, after everything. you’re tired, aren’t you?”

“i figured that much was obvious,” he argues. 

HINATA HAJIME laughs, breathily. “yeah? yeah, that’s fair.” the laughter stops. “do you want to stay a bit longer, or i can take you home?”

KOMAEDA NAGITO shifts away, resting his head on HINATA HAJIME’s shoulder but keeping his eyes focused, again, on the gravestones. “i still have more to say,” he notes, and HINATA HAJIME nods, so KOMAEDA NAGITO talks,

and talks,

and talks.

// END SCENE //

“do you think my parents would hate me?” KOMAEDA NAGITO asks, humming happily as he swings his hand in HINATA HAJIME’s, walking in the vague direction of the cemetery.

“i don’t think so.” HINATA HAJIME, always the optimist, or realist, or pessimist, oh dear, “you’ve come a long way, komaeda. i think they’d be proud.”

KOMAEDA NAGITO nods cheerfully, before chirping, “i really hate them. i’m happy they’re dead.”

HINATA HAJIME sighs, and the conversation ends there.

// END SCENE // 

“it’s sickening,” KOMAEDA NAGITO says for the eighth time, HINATA HAJIME rubbing circles into his back, “how you left. something so  _ explosive _ and, haha, ‘traumatizing’, and-”

“definitely traumatizing,” HINATA HAJIME interrupts.

KOMAEDA NAGITO sighs. “how you left was so destructive. haha, i wonder if i would hate you more or hate you less if you had just passed away in your sleep. in one way, i never got to know you all that well. i hardly remember my childhood, haha-- not that there’s much to remember, since you stole it from me.” KOMAEDA NAGITO still says it happily, but resentment and grief play-happy, sometimes. “in another way, i will never forget you. is that what you wanted? to live in my mind forever? you should know that nothing will, haha, not even my lover.”

HINATA HAJIME is quiet.

“did you give that to me, too?” what a cruel betrayal, haha. “did you give me this sickness? this condition? are you the reason that i wake up in a cold sweat every night, nauseous and angry, the reason i hover between adoring and hating, the reason i feel nothing at all, the reason i wish i were dead but too exhausted to do anything, is that you? is that who you really are? if i could remember your faces-- and i’ve tried-- is that what i would see? how cruel, mother, father.” KOMAEDA NAGITO laughs, his voice hitching. “how  _ cruel. _ ”

HINATA HAJIME is still quiet.

“sometimes, i want to tear my hair out and scream! oh, but i tell you that every year, don’t i? i hope you don’t expect originality; i’ve always just been imprints of your mistakes, after all. but, oh, what was i… oh! sometimes i wish i could claw my brain into the two pieces it should be in-- destructive, vicious, elated and dark, numb, depression. maybe then, i could do something worthwhile with myself, haha! maybe then, i could be loved, haha! but you stole that from me, didn’t you?”

“i love you,” HINATA HAJIME reminds softly.

“i know,” KOMAEDA NAGITO replies at the same volume, “though i rarely tell you the same, do i?”

“it depends on the day,” he admits, “sometimes you say it a thousand times in a minute, sometimes you don’t really talk to me at all. i know it’s hard, komaeda.”

“it leans towards the latter, these days.” KOMAEDA NAGITO tucks his knees to his chest, and HINATA HAJIME holds him closer. “you know this, right?”

HINATA HAJIME nods. “i still love you.”

KOMAEDA NAGITO smiles bitterly. “you really are nothing like my family.”

and both think, for a moment,  _ maybe we can form a new one.  _

but that’s all **_idealistic bullshit,_ ** isn’t it?

// END SCENE //

it rains on their way there and it rains while they are there. it stops when they walk back, though.

KOMAEDA NAGITO thinks about it a bit too much. 

“sometimes, i feel like the rain should repel from us,” he muses, “like we’re in a bubble, haha! something you could pop easily, sure, but i’ve never thought the rain to be so rude. it may be beautiful, though, to be wrecked by it-- and on such a melancholy day! i never dreamed of something this perfect. what do you think, hinata-kun?”

HINATA HAJIME shifts a bit, looking at the pavement and then up at KOMAEDA NAGITO. the brown strands are sticking to his face-- spiky, spiky. KOMAEDA NAGITO wants to kiss him breathless, but he thinks he might throw up instead. “i think it’s just rain, really. i don’t think too much about these things,” HINATA HAJIME answers, rubbing his thumb against KOMAEDA NAGITO’s hand.

“haha, okay! that makes sense for someone as wonderful as you, hinata-kun!” if there were shadows, or a rainbow, they would both be eclipsed by one. HINATA HAJIME would look so very pretty with a rainbow behind him, KOMAEDA NAGITO thinks. maybe if KOMAEDA NAGITO cries hard enough in front of the sunlight HINATA HAJIME embodies, they could create their own handcrafted iris.

like the iris in the bookshop.

…

he waits his entire life, sometimes,

all at once and not at all, but the rain never ricochets.

// END SCENE //

“we should go home now, i think.”

KOMAEDA NAGITO feels dizzy, a pressure in his throat, and the second HINATA HAJIME pulls him up, he retches into the wet grass. HINATA HAJIME pets his hair, pulls out a handkerchief to wipe off KOMAEDA NAGITO’s face, and he leaves it, disgusting and pathetic, in front of the gravestones.

it’s happenstance. KOMAEDA NAGITO is in love. 

“let’s go home, komaeda.”

KOMAEDA NAGITO laughs, dizzily. 

“okay.”

// END SCENE //

KOMAEDA NAGITO confesses sometimes in the night.

he wakes up from another nightmare, curls up under the blankets as HINATA HAJIME wipes at his forehead with a wet towel, making sure there’s a rubbish bin nearby and that the bathroom lights are on just in case, and KOMAEDA NAGITO talks.

“i saw them again,” he whispers, voice quiet and shaky. “i saw it, the- the, y’know what i…!”

“i know.” HINATA HAJIME soothes. “i know.”

“they were bleeding a lot,” KOMAEDA NAGITO admits, broken hysteria, “did i tell you that? they were bleeding, bleeding, bleeding. and, huh, where was i going with it… i dunno if i care anymore.”

“that’s alright.” HINATA HAJIME reassures. “are you tired?”

“‘m so tired,” KOMAEDA NAGITO says weakly. he closes his eyes, listens to HINATA HAJIME rustle in the sheets before loosely holding KOMAEDA NAGITO, chest to back, and,

KOMAEDA NAGITO taps his arm once, twice, repeatedly, and HINATA HAJIME allows that. tip tap, tip tap, “hey, hinata-kun?”

“yeah?” HINATA HAJIME shifts closer. 

“i wish i could have killed them myself.” 

HINATA HAJIME is quiet. 

KOMAEDA NAGITO is quiet.

then, “i feel really sick,”

they move again.

// END SCENE //

KOMAEDA NAGITO pushes HINATA HAJIME to a couch the moment they get home, curling up in his lap and tapping his thigh. he feels sick, sick, sick. HINATA HAJIME just strokes his hair, staring blankly at the wall with misdirected fondness. KOMAEDA NAGITO thinks of soft toast, bitter coffee, bloody dogs, and his own death. will his mind still hurt? he’s scared it will. 

please just let him die.

“hinata-kun?” KOMAEDA NAGITO whispers.

“yeah?”

“outlive me,” just let him die. “please. it would really be so impertinent if you didn’t.”

HINATA HAJIME doesn’t say anything to that.

KOMAEDA NAGITO closes his eyes, feeling nothing. 

**Author's Note:**

> i started writing this for the death anniversary of someone i knew, but it's been two days since that date, since i wasn't quite able to get myself to write anything then, so. not sure how to really define that. it feels keenly strange to consider it a "vent fic", even when quite a lot of this was taken from my own experiences, written off of my own upset. i'm not sure why this is. 
> 
> in any case, despite the macabre nature of writing this sort of fic, it was fairly fun to experiment with the different style. i'll consider it again for some other fic, perhaps. 
> 
> stay safe, everyone. love you xx.


End file.
